Five days. It had taken five days and ample tipping of the street urchins to find this place. Eitan currently stood in front of a rundown shack near the edge of the slums. It was a place most people wouldn't want to give a second glance at, much less seek out. Eitan was currently draped in an inconspicuous dark cloak that hooded his face, leaning on a cheap wooden walking stick as he surveyed the place. He was measuring the best way to go about this as two men approached the shack from an alley. Eitan quickly dipped behind a corner, slowing his breathing while seemingly melting into the shadows cast by the setting sun. It was a technique he had picked up during his time as a grunt mercenary, one that held zero use in combat but was better than anything else if one merely wished to mask their presence. It had saved his life on more than one occasion.
One of the men banged on the door to the shack, causing the hold building to shake. It seemed almost as if he used any more force, it would completely collapse. "Hey, old man! We know you're in there! You've been living here but haven't paid a single coin in protection fees. Either pay up, or pick which kidney to say goodbye to!"
Eitan watched this farce with mild amusement, but was also a bit confused. Farrel would barely have to lift a hand to deal with these ruffians. So why was he letting them go on like this?
The door creaked open, and a scruffy middle-aged man appeared. Even though his hair dangled long, Eitan caught sight of the sharp golden eyes underneath the gray strands. His clothes were no more than rags, so his well-defined muscles were on display for all to see. This was, without a doubt, Farrel Falkur, albeit more hunched-looking than he remembered. But the sight of his strong body didn't seem to deter the men, as the one who hadn't spoken yet rolled up his sleeves. "So where's the money, you oaf?"
"I will-" Farrel didn't seem intent on fighting, instead reaching for a worn satchel by his waist.
Finally confirming his intentions, Eitan stepped out of the cover of darkness. "I will pay for him." The three men's eyes widened at his sudden appearance, but Eitan just reached into his cloak and threw out a coin towards the closest gangster. "We want no trouble here, so take this and leave."
The man caught the coin and held up the sparkling silver with an excited expression. This was a genuine silver coin! He could usually only get this much after extorting people for weeks. A greedy look flashed through his eyes as he turned towards Eitan, but the other man spoke before he could do anything. "We got the money, so let's go. Boss said no mucking around, remember?"
"Gah, I got it." The man slipped the coin carefully into his pocket, giving one last side-eye at Eitan before going off with his companion.
Once they were gone, Farrel turned towards Eitan with a stiff expression. "Who are you?" His voice was wary but not hostile, which was a step in the right direction.
Eitan smiled, his mouth being the only thing not obscured by the cloak. "You may call me Elron. Shall we converse for a bit, Sir Farrel?" Eitan decided not to reveal his identity just yet, instead going by his old alias. Farrel being aware that he was the son of the count would do him no good at the moment.
Farrel's demeanor immediately changed from that of a downtrodden man to a sharp sword. "How do you know me?"
"I know you, and I know how to get you what you want." Eitan tapped his walking stick on the ground. "Now, do you wish to talk out here for all to see?"
Farrel restrained his presence slightly, but his eyes were like daggers burrowing into Eitan. "... Let's go inside." He turned and went into the shack, but never had his back fully facing Eitan.
A warrior is always a warrior, it seems. Eitan, of course, noticed this and actually appreciated Farrel's uptight ways. He followed him inside and took a cursory glance around. The only furniture in the shack was a shoddy bed in the corner and a large wooden chest placed right beside it. Eitan closed the door as Farrel stood opposite him with arms crossed. "You. What do you want from me?"
"That can be a question for later, Sir Farrel." Eitan naturally wouldn't bring up his intentions of subordination right off the bat. "The important thing is I know what you want. Revenge for your daughter, isn't it? I can make that happen."
Farrel's fists clenched as his eyes flickered briefly to the chest by his feet. He must be keeping his weapons in there. Eitan surmised as he waited for the man to respond. He didn't fear Farrel attacking him, as he was certain of his upright character. He was a man who repaid both favors and grudges tenfold, even a hundredfold. He had just granted Farrel a favor by paying those men in his place, so he would not repay that with enmity.
"Explain yourself," as expected, Farrel didn't move to attack but instead firmly demanded answers.
"The culprits you're pursuing are an organized syndicate called Bloody Gold. They mainly occupy places in the Reidar region but are rooted in the Ormund County." Eitan unhesitantly revealed the information he had. "I know the location of their main bases here and who is actually behind them. I can tell you everything, if you so desire."
"And how am I supposed to trust you?" Farrel kept up a cold and wary front, but Eitan could guess what was going on in his head.
No, you will trust me. Because what I just said fits perfectly with the little information you currently have. And, you will gladly grasp any straw offered to you at this time. Eitan naturally said none of this out loud, merely standing silent and undeterred under Farrel's harsh gaze.
Farrel suddenly held his head in resigned frustration. "Shit, fine!" He lifted his head and stared directly at Eitan, as if he could see through his cloak and into the very essence of his being. A subtle bloodlust emanated from him as he brought his hands down. "If I find that you are lying to me, I don't care who you are. I will kill you in the most painful manner I know."
Rather than being intimidated, Eitan grinned at this threat. It was almost cute compared to the past, when he regularly heard curses so foul that he thought his ears would rot. "You're most welcome. Would you like to discuss before getting a move on?"
"No," Farrel responded bluntly, leaning down and unlocking the wooden chest. He swung it open to reveal a sheathed longsword and dagger. "We talk as we move." He placed the holster on his waist and slid the dagger under his ragged garments.
"Alright then," Eitan didn't disagree, and exited the shack with Farrel following close behind. "Let's make our way to their hideout first, shall we?"
Farrel didn't dissent, so Eitan began leading the way to their target. His gait was slightly unsteady on the rough slum roads, but he never once faltered on their journey. The moon was already rising in the sky by the time they reached their destination. Eitain came to a stop in front of a signboard with the writing: Golden Inn. "Here it is. Would you like me to accompany you?"
"No need," A swishing sound could be heard, the moonlight now reflecting evenly off sharpened metal. No later than he brandished his sword, did Farrel storm straight into the inn.
Eitan waited patiently outside as tortured screams echoed from inside the walls. He had already explained everything to Farrel on the way here, from what he remembered of the positioning of their hideouts to the master behind it all. It was neither a long nor short time until Farrel reemerged from the inn. The moon's cold glow revealed the blood splattered all over his body, in contrast to his sword, which still gleamed pristinely.
"Next," Farrel sheathed his sword, his emotionless voice akin to a reaper pronouncing death to his target.
So the night of bloodshed began. Eitan dutifully led Farrel to the major hideouts in the area, and the screams only quieted down with the rising of the sun. Farrel had just emerged from the last tavern when Eitan spoke to him. "I shall return tonight to speak of what is to be done about the Ormund bastard."
Farrel's eyes widened, and Eitan swiftly departed before he had the time to collect himself. He re-entered the Reidar castle via secret passages he had used during the war, eventually reaching his bedroom on trembling legs. He hurriedly cleansed himself of the smell of the slums, hiding his cloak and stick before practically collapsing into his bed. He had been working hard to improve his body over the past few days, but a full night out and about was still too much of a burden on his body. He passed out almost immediately and slept like the dead until being roused by a knock on the door.
"Young Master Eitan, I brought your breakfast," Lind spoke from behind the door.
Eitan dragged his still-exhausted body upright. "Leave it there. Don't enter the room without my permission in the morning from now on." He didn't want anyone near him while in such a weakened state.
"Yes."
The sound of metal hitting the floor was heard before receding footsteps. Eitan shakily got out of bed, grabbing his cane before making his way over to the door. Some bread and hearty soup sat on the tray outside, along with a fresh pitcher of water. He brought it in and ate slowly, finally having a cup of water before he stood up, leaving the dirty dishes on the table for Lind to clean up later. It's time to train. He was indeed exhausted, but not to the point that exercise would damage his body. So cane in hand, he made his way to the abandoned courtyard just outside his room. He tucked the cane firmly under his armpit before breaking out into a jog.
Sweat poured down his face, and his knees buckled as dizziness threatened to take him down, but that wasn't enough to stop him. Originally, he was barely able to do a lap around the yard, but he was now on his third lap. He had made rapid progress over the past few days, but it still wasn't enough. He was still far, far too weak. Once he completed the lap, he planted his cane in the ground and bent over it, panting hard. "Huck… huck… This shitty- body…"
"Looks like this little brother of mine still hasn't learnt his lesson?"
Eitan turned his head to see an unfortunately familiar face. Bright red eyes. Jet black hair. A well-built body dressed in extravagant clothes. It was his older half-brother, Callen Reidar. "I told you last time. Just stay quietly in your room like the rat you are. Why do you have to come out and make things difficult for me? Don't tell me you're thinking of defying your older brother?"
Callen must have seen him running from one of the hall windows that overlooked the courtyard, so he came down to harass him as usual. Eitan gulped down a final gasp of air before standing erect. He scanned the nearby windows and, after confirming no other presence, finally looked at Callen with a cocky grin. "Well, you aren't my full brother, are you? So why should I listen to you?"
Callen's expression contorted at the blatant provocation. "I suppose I hit you too hard last time, seeing as you've lost your senses." He stepped toward Eiten, flexing his fingers. "It seems I need to give you another lesson on obedience for the sake of the county's prestige."
"Teach me a lesson for the county's sake, huh? It almost sounds like you want to act in place of Father. Ah, wait, never mind. That can't be so. You aren't the heir after all, so how could you act instead of the count?" Eitan's words cut exactly where it hurt. Callen also desired the heir position, but was lacking in nearly every manner when compared to the eldest son. His only strong point was that among the brothers, his appearance most resembled the count. But when it came to capabilities necessary for leading a fief, he lagged far behind the others. This caused an inferiority complex to spring up, which is why he lashed out to assert authority over his younger half-brother.
"You bastard!" Callen's anger clouded his vision as he leaped at Eitan, fist outstretched.
Even with this tired, weak body, I can still easily deal with an agitated kid like you. He was not provoking Callen just for fun, but instead to make his moves simpler and easier to dodge. Given this, he easily side-stepped out of the way of Callen's blow and used his cane to give the young man a solid blow to the knees. This unexpected impact caused Callen to tumble over, carried down by his momentum from his charge. He landed hard on the ground, and before he could recover, Eitan used this opportunity to stab his cane straight into his unguarded solar plexus.
"Urgh!' All of the breath got shoved out of Callen's lungs, and the jolting pain made his eyes sting with tears. "You- you-" Callen stuttered out between gasping breaths.
Not wanting to hear any more insults or drag this out any longer, Eitan gave Callen a hard hit to the underside of the chin with the butt of his cane. This promptly caused the opponent to pass out, and Eitan took a wavering step backwards. He took one more look around to confirm the absence of witnesses before escaping the scene. He wasn't worried about Callen revealing his newfound prowess, as that would involve also revealing his humiliating defeat. So he took the opportunity to gain a small bit of satisfying revenge before he had to depart.
Eitan returned to his room and decided it would be best to get some more rest before the night's escapade. He changed into a clean robe before falling fast asleep.
He only awoke when the last of the sun's rays were just barely visible above the horizon. Lind would not check on him again until later in the morning, which is why he had recently been slipping out at this time. The sleep had mostly revived his overworked limbs, and he dragged himself out of bed without much difficulty. Donning his cloak and grabbing the stick, he stealthily made his way back to the slums where Farrel awaited.
It didn't take long for him to reach the shack where he found Farrel standing outside, already fully armed. "Tell me how I can kill Dolion Ormund." This was the heir of Ormund County, the true culprit behind the Bloody Gold.
"Dolion will likely have received news about the purging in Reidar by now." Eitan didn't mind the lack of greetings and also got straight to the point. "He will be working to clean up his ties as quickly as possible in fear of being implicated."
"So?" Farrel interrupted him impatiently.
Eitan donned a knowing smile, bringing a finger to his lips. "Tonight, he is no doubt contacting the operatives in Ormund. We use this to lure him out and stage it to look as though he were murdered by his own agents. How's that sound?"
Farrel revealed a look of understanding, but soon frowned. "I'm more than happy to kill that bastard as soon as possible, but how are we meant to make him appear in person?"
We. Farrel had followed Eitan's manner of referring to them as a collective. "We send him this," Eitan pulled a letter out of his coat that he had prepared the day prior. It was high-quality paper, and in the bottom right lay the seal of the Reidar family. Something Eitan had momentarily 'borrowed' from his father's study, of course. It read: You have dared to encroach on the land of the Reidars. If you do not wish for this matter to go public, come alone to the Goldberry Inn by dawn. The Goldberry Inn was the main base of operations for the Bloody Gold in Ormund.
"This is- you are-?" Farrel looked at Eitan with a look of astonishment.
"My identity holds no significance right now. Rather, isn't it more important to come face to face with the one behind your daughter's murder?" Eitan tucked the letter back into his cloak. "I will ensure Dolion appears. All you have to do is wait near the inn."
Farrel's mouth contorted a bit as if he had something to say, but nothing came out. He merely stared at Eitan for a few moments before nodding solemnly, hand on his sword. "I will be waiting." He turned away and took off into the night.
Eitan watched him go, glancing up at the bright stars shining in the sky. I should also get on the move; time is tight. He began moving at a brisk pace to deliver the reaper's message.